Rebel With A Cause
by IAmTheRevelation
Summary: Rebel, the only thirteen year old from a small town, stumbles into the group's lives at the prison along with the Woodbury survivors. She lost everything besides her newborn brother and she has lost hope in the world of the walking dead. She meets a certain boy that shows her that there's hope left in the world, and she shows him that there's more to life than survival.
1. Second Chance

**Chapter 1: One More Chance**

**Summary: Rebel, a thirteen year old that remains from a small town, stumbles into the group's lives at the prison along with the Woodbury survivors. She lost everything besides her newborn brother, but she lost hope in the world of the walking dead. Mixed in with the people at the prison, she meets a boy that shows her there's hope left in the world and also, she shows him that everything isn't only about survival.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own the Walking Dead or any of its materials.**

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_Rebel's P.O.V_

"Boy, you need to zip it," I say, making an attempt to hush the screeching baby in my arms.

My eyes flicker down towards the crying child, rocking him back and forth in my arms as he lets out bloodcurdling shrieks like he had been murdered or something of that sort. I don't ever remember hearing a newborn cry like this; I just thought they slept all of the time or something along those lines. Frustration still runs through my system at what could be wrong with him, noting that I've done everything I could to make him comfortable. I've fed him, changed him, and even gave him a bath in the nearby stream in which he enjoyed because it gave him relief from the Georgia heat. I even dressed him in a one-piece outfit with short-sleeves and a pair of shorts; with the wind blowing, he should be as cool as a cucumber. He's been fussy since early this morning and I'm wanting to think he didn't sleep well or he's fighting sleep, but I hope that he'll doze off soon; I don't want any Walkers popping up on us because the odds of us surviving that doesn't seem likely. The three day old baby's electric blue eyes meet mine, tears streaming down his face like a waterfall. I sigh, taking the time to search for the pacifier in my jeans pocket and I pop it into his mouth, instant relief filling the air as I smirk to myself. I tuck him into the sling I made from some kind of silken fabric I had in my bag, making sure that it isn't loose that way I can carry him, leaving my arms free as I walk through the woods, whistling a song that he is contented to hear most of the time. When I whistled it when he was born just a few days ago, he fell in love with it when he was freaking out when I washed the dried blood from his skin in a creek as I held him. Now it is hard to stop whistling it because he'll get grumpy or something like that.

"Look at ya'…what a beauty that our mama had," I say, chuckling. He has a head full of pale blonde hair just like me and a perfect complexion of skin about him; also, he holds our father's electric blue eyes, in which we both inherit. He's tiny, though; I say it is because of the malnourishment Mama went through before she had him, but yet again, he's probably just programmed like that. I didn't give him a name yet; nothing suits him in which I call him. Names like Caleb, Ethan, Joshua, Tyler, Dillon, Max, and Timothy didn't fit him; I know that Mama would've wanted something unique for him, like she did for me. Still, I have no idea what name could match up to mine. Rebel…that name was given to me as a nickname and it stuck. Sometimes I have to think really hard of what my real name was and at the moment, I can't even muster up a thought of what it was. Maybe it starts with an A? No, a B! Hell, I haven't been around anybody that calls me my real name in so long that I've probably forgotten it; guess Rebel's the name for the rest of my life.

I chuckle, looking down at the baby that is happily zonked out in the makeshift sling, running my hand across his head full of hair gently. When he was born, I had no Godly idea of how to care for him and before Mama slipped off into unconsciousness, she gave me pointers and sat there with us in her last moments as she burnt from a fever that took her over after the baby's birth. That's how I lost my mother, my father not even daring to look at the baby, and he shot himself in the head after saying that my brother's mine now and do whatever, that he couldn't care. Those words still filter through my head of what he said before he died and right now, I was so angry at him, I can't even mourn for him. I can't grieve for my mother because of that anger rushing through me. Plus my father rose me up to be tough; I can't remember the last time I cried over something that happened.

My lips touch his forehead that smells like baby soap, kissing him lightly. "Damn, what am I gonna call you, kid? Mama would've thought of some crazy name for you." I allow him to clutch my finger in his little hand, the pacifier falling out of his mouth as he falls into a deep sleep, his little legs moving and I wonder what he's dreaming about. "I might as well call you Lil' Lazy Ass." I smile to myself at the joke and I savor the sweet silence of no Walkers and the sound of a quiet baby. My eyes flicker towards the sky, seeing that the sun is starting to set over the horizon and I cringe a little bit, the baby making a discomforted sound at my sudden action. I hush him, rubbing his back as he dozes into sleep again and I scout the place out, hoping I could find a hollow tree trunk or something where I could hide inside of it that way we aren't exposed to Walkers or anything if they start roaming around outside tonight. _Please let there be a place… Oh, for the love of God, I'm screwed if I don't find a place for the baby and me… _Every second that passed me was wasted on me looking around like a little lost kid. But I am a little lost kid with a baby who doesn't really know how to care for herself or a newborn at that.

I drop onto the forest floor gently, looking at my brother with concerned eyes. "What are we gonna do, bubby?" I stroke his stomach lightly, watching as he makes noise all newborns makes in their sleep while they dream. As I look down at him, footsteps sound behind us and I stiffen up, grabbing my gun from my holster, getting onto my feet.

"You're gonna put that gun down, that what you're gonna do," a voice hisses, making me flinch.

My eyes flicker towards the source of the voice, a pair of crystal blue eyes meeting mine, a boy about my age or more standing in front of me, his gun loaded and completed with a silencer. I gulp, looking at him as a man walks up behind him. "I ain't wanting trouble, now." The boy looks at me with cold, emotionless eyes, lifting his gun up. His finger is on the trigger and my eyes grow wide. I look down at my brother, watching as he sleeps and this probably may be my last sight of him.

"Carl, what are you doin'?! I should beat your ass for trying to do that!" the man yells, the baby not moving a muscle in my arms. "That's just a girl right there! She doesn't look like she's a day over thirteen!" The man takes the boy's gun away, leaving me frozen in my place as I stare at them. "Darlin', are you okay?"

I didn't know how to answer him, incoherent words jumbling on my tongue and they rush out, my legs shaking as they threaten to buckle beneath me. My mouth twists into a line of panic and the man runs up to me, catching me before I face planted on the ground, looking into the makeshift sling to see my brother looking up at the both of us with startled blue eyes. "Don't shoot me, please. I…the…the boy is all I have left. He needs me."

The man shakes his head, his brown eyes wide as he holds me up. "Oh, you have a baby on yer' hands. C'mon, you're comin' with us. The woods ain't a place for a girl or a baby." He supports my lanky weight, helping me walk as he slings his crossbow up and over his shoulder. "Carl, let's get going before it gets any darker. Keep yer' gun in that holster, understand me, or Rick's gonna have yer' tail." I look down at the baby who is looking around, his eyes showing some kind of discomfort and I smile, putting a finger to my lips as if to tell him to hush up.

…

"Rick, get yer' boy before I get him. I'll explain the situation later; Carol, take this lil' lady and her baby to go get cleaned up. They look like hell got em'." The man leads me into a prison block, still helping me stand up. My eyes flicker around the place, the grey walls giving me some kind of comfort as we walk inside. A strong foundation where my brother is safe…where I don't have to watch my every move in case it ended up getting me or the both of us killed. The prison is filled with people sitting at tables, playing card games, and some people playing guitars. But the entire prison falls silent, their eyes following me as I hold my brother, the man that saved me from the boy handing me off to a short haired woman.

The woman places her hands on my shoulders, leading me to a wash area. She has wide light blue eyes, a terrified expression on her face as she looks down at me. Silently, she motions for me to open my makeshift sling and I pull back the soft material of what could've been a dress or something simple that belonged to Mama. At the sight of my brother, she cautiously lifts him out and he doesn't look pleased, letting out a cry that is muffled by a pacifier when I give it to him. "What's your name, sweetheart?"

I bite my bottom lip, debating on whether I need to trust her. But before I could stop myself, I speak quietly as I look at my brother quietly. "My name is Rebel." I brush my platinum blonde hair back, looking up at her with scared eyes.

"God, you're so thin… I'll have to have Hershel look at you in a little while, Rebel. What about your baby? How old is he?" the woman questions, looking down at me with wondering eyes as I shake my head.

"That's my baby brother; he ain't mine. I've been debating on names for him, but haven't found any luck yet. He's right at three days old," I reply, my voice growing hoarse because the panic in my system is so overwhelming. The woman offers a light smile, touching my shoulder as she holds my brother in her left arm, his electric blue eyes looking around contently.

"Let's get the both of you cleaned up, and then I'll get Hershel back here to check you guys out. Your brother looks healthy, but for you… I'll see what Hershel recommends before we follow through with anything else." She leads me over to the area designated for a wash site, a make shift shower made and is hidden away behind thick wood. I take my bag off, snapping it open as I snatch out a pair of pants and a shirt for the baby. "Rebel, you need to rest; let me…"

I shake my head, holding my hand up as if to cut her off. "He's my brother, and I'll take care of him. I promised my mama that I'd watch him, no matter the consequence." The woman smiles lightly, handing my brother to me silently at leads me over to a small basin, taking a jug of water and she fills it up a little. "Thank you." With that, she roams off into the prison full of people, leaving me to care for my brother by myself.

"I think you just saved my ass, brother," I reply, smiling down at him as I take off his clothing, placing him in the water as I hold his upper body up and out of the water, running a cloth over him. He smiles for the first time, flashing off his little dimples and I chuckle, soaping him down with baby soap from my bag. "What am I gonna call you, kid? Lil' Lazy Ass ain't gonna cut it because of these folks around here."

I just watch as he continues looking around, the same contented smile on his face as I continue to wash him off. The only sound that reminds me I'm still in a place full of people is the laughing of a child or the continuous strum of a guitar, but I don't mind now. Being in a place around people will help me gain my social graces back and it'll teach the baby that there are other people besides me in this world. I finally pull him from the basin, wrapping him in a towel that rests on the side of a changing table padded with a cushion.

"What about Liam? Nah, that sounds too formal," I mutter as I grab a diaper, putting it on him and then I pull the clothes onto him. "We'll find out something, won't we?"I smile down at him and I lift him up, cradling him in one arm. I start to turn towards the door when I see the same woman who led me back here and a man on crutches is beside of her, his bright blue eyes studying the both of us. They walk over towards us and I hold the baby to my chest, looking up at them with wide eyes. The old man smiles lightly at me and then gestures towards the baby, wanting to look at him and I hold my brother out carefully; he studies the baby carefully, a smile giving the okay about him.

"The baby's healthy, girl. But you need a thorough examination and I'll try to get some food for you to eat; we have more than enough at the moment." The elderly man looks at me with a light smile and then I look down at my brother, then over at the woman.

"Would you watch him? I don't think I can trust anybody but you," I reply, looking at the short haired woman and she smiles, holding out her arms and I pass my brother to her. She cradles him expertly, rocking him as she carries him off and out into the open, ladies swarming him like he was the most angelic little thing on the planet, and in my words, he was.

The elderly man smiles lightly, pointing to a table with a white cloth spread across a padded thing that is for softness underneath it. "What's yer' name, sweetheart?" I hop up onto the table, watching as he pulls out a doctor's bag and starts lying out supplies like a stethoscope, some kind of light, and viles of things that are for shots. My heart starts thudding irregularly as he pulls them out and I note that I've always had an irrational fear of doctors for most of my life, but that doesn't necessarily bother me now.

"My name's Rebel, or what I know my parents would call me," I reply, smoothing my jacket sleeve down.

The man nods, looking into my ears with some kind of contraption with a light on the end of it. "The name's Hershel Greene; call me Hershel, though. What about your little fella' with Carol?" Hershel says, watching as I take notes on the name of the woman who has my brother just within my line of sight.

"He ain't got one, Hershel; still debating on something for him, though." I flinch as he starts pulling out medical supplies, filling a syringe with some kind of vaccine. He lifts up my sleeve, wiping my dirty arm clean with some alcohol and sticks it into my arm, squeezing it down quickly. "What's the shot for, doc'?"

Hershel chuckles, looking up at me. He looks just like my grandfather with the white hair and the beard, a kind smile always on his face. The only thing that separated them was the fact that Hershel's a doctor and Grand Daddy was a lawyer. "It's just a mix of a vaccine to immunize you from certain diseases; it'll help you and your boy- I mean brother, to stay safe. Anyways, I do recommend that you eat some fresh food and that you get some sleep. Plus I'll like to prescribe you some pills…they help with Post-Traumatic Stress Syndrome, in which I see in you."

I nod, watching as Hershel stands up. "Get yourself cleaned up, Rebel. We'll take care of your brother for you until then." Giving Hershel a shaky nod, I watch as he leaves the shower area, closing the wooden door behind him. Silently I walk over to the large bag that holds a mixture of everything the baby will need and that I'll need in the days to come, pulling out some clothing. A sleeveless shirt and a pair of worn out jeans are the two articles of clothing I've decided to wear, a pair of underwear and a bra in my hands. Stumbling over towards the makeshift shower, I strip myself of clothing and walk inside of it, pulling a tab that lets the water run and the warm water washes the dirt away and the sticky, dried blood on my hands that I've had trouble trying scrub off, the images of my mother filling my head as she screamed and jerked when she was giving birth to my brother. It all washes down a drain in the concrete, blood and dirt washing with it from cuts where I've stumbled from sleep deprivation that last few days because of the baby's wailing.

I stop the water, looking down at my body that is about as clean as you can really get in a world without electricity and plumbing. Bruises I didn't even know I have show through where I literally scrubbed the skin off, blood from old cuts that must've been scratched starting to tell up and it drips down my leg silently. Sighing, I grab my towel quickly and wrap it around my body, uncomfortable with as many people that are nearby close to the wash area. I dry off quickly, putting my clothes on and I walk from the makeshift shower, all eyes on me once again as my eyes focus on finding Carol with the baby. A smile of relief spreads across my face when I see her beside of a blonde girl, holding my brother up to a baby girl who is almost twice his size.

"What did Hershel say?" Carol asks, silently handing my sleeping brother to me.

I hold him against my chest, holding his back as I support his body to keep him from flinging himself backwards. "He said that I'm just tired and that he'll give me some pills; ain't nothin' major, Carol." I smile lightly at Carol, looking down at the baby with gentle eyes.

"Well that's good," Carol says, looking between me and the girl holding the little pink bundle in her arms. "Rebel, I think it's time you met some people. This is Beth Greene, Hershel's daughter; this here is Judith… I think you know her brother…" In the baby's face, I see the face of the boy that almost gunned me and my brother down in the woods.

I smile sheepishly at Beth before peering down at Judith, her big brown eyes meeting mine. "She's a beauty, you two. Does she belong to Beth?" I knew it was probably unlikely, since she has blonde hair and blue eyes; Judith has brown hair and brown eyes.

"You could say that," Beth says, smiling lightly. "I've always wanted a baby of my own…" I smile lightly at them, looking down at my brother who is stirring, his electric blue eyes meeting mine. "He's a doll, Rebel. You two look just alike."

I chuckle. "I guess that adds onto the fact that people call 'em mine. He might as well be mine, anyways, since I'm stuck with him." Carol and Beth laughs, watching as my brother gurgles and goes on. "Anyways, what's goin' on here? How'd you get this prison full a people?"

"We'll explain that to you later. C'mon, you just need to wind down; we're having dinner in a little while, so we'll get you and the baby settled. Come with me?" Carol stands up, putting her hand on my shoulder where the baby's head doesn't lay. She escorts me up three flights of stairs, showing to a room that is stocked with some food, toilet paper, water, and a small wooden crib meant for a baby of all ages. "Why don't you get some rest and let me handle the baby?"

I debate whether I should or shouldn't give the baby to her and I think of the three days I haven't fallen asleep. Looking down at him, I offer a smile and Carol takes him gently. "Thank ya', Carol."

"Anytime, Rebel; sleep well," Carol replies.

I smile at the older woman before walking into the cell's holding spot, shutting the door behind me. She walks off with my brother, cooing at him as she carries him off. My eyes flicker over towards the bed that has a thick quilt on it and I smile a little, sitting on it. I kick off my ratty tennis shoes, laying back on the bed. I stare up at the dark ceiling, everything becoming a blur as time starts fading away, my eyes drooping closed as sleep pulls me under too quickly, the only image a boy with a sheriff's hat standing in front of the cell door, his crystal blue eyes menacing and cold as he stares me down. But I don't care; sleep's the only thing I can focus on as it drags me into its clutches, time clashing with the ongoing darkness as it pulls me under.


	2. Brave New World

**Thank you all for the reviews! You guys don't even know how happy I was to receive them and to Plania and GeminiCross, you don't know how hard you made me laugh when I read your reviews****! CrazedMachete, thank you for telling me it got off good! That's what a writer needs to hear nowadays. To Plania, who pointed out some mistakes: sorry I got you confused- that's just me when I get excited and start to type. I'll make this chapter clearer for you and I hope that everybody likes it better than the first! To GeminiCross, there will definitely be some romance for you in some later chapters! Just getting the love story started up first**

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_There was way too much blood, that much I knew as Mama gave out a strangled scream of pain. She was too pale, her fever soaring even more with the stress of child birth on her shoulders. My hands shook as I tampered around, making sure she was comfortable but everything ended with a scream or her body falling limp due to the weakness she had suffered. I stared at her with wide eyes as my hands came up with blood, something evidently wrong because of the massive blood loss. It was only a matter of time before the baby died, or Mama died, and maybe even both; and I couldn't allow that. So much had been lost already. Dad and I couldn't afford to lose anything else in our lives._

"_Mama, you're doin' fine," I said, hoping that the words would offer her encouragement. To give her hope when she had lost it over and over again._

_She shook her head weakly, sweat dribbling down her face. "D-D-Don't lie to me, Rebel; y-y-y-you k-k-know what's happening." Mama's body withered up, another contraction started up. I grimaced, what little hope that I had left fully diminished. There was too much blood; there was no baby born; Mama or the baby wouldn't survive this._

"_You said you wanted this baby ta' have a future, so damn it, give it one," I said; I tried to give her motivation because Mama said the baby would grow up to do something the rest of us couldn't. She could dream, couldn't she?_

_Minutes passed, Mama still gave in and out to the stress, but finally, a tiny baby rested in my arms. Shrieks filled the air, the fact Walkers started to hiss scared the hell outta me, but I couldn't stop crying. I was happy, overjoyed, and so much more because Mama actually pulled through having the baby, but would she last through the fever and the blood loss? "Mama?" I asked and looked at her with wide eyes. She had fallen against the bed, her skin pale as paper as she breathed raspy breaths of air. I shook my head and the tears started as I stared down at her. "No, you ain't dead! Mama, you ain't dyin' on me! Mama!"_

…

My head hits the cement floor with a crack, the rest of my body following as I stare up at the ceiling in shock. I can see the pale light of dawn through the windows of the prison, the tunneling vision fading as I gain full consciousness, the shock wearing off as I squirm around on the floor, my heart racing wildly as I fight to get out of whatever restrains me. Tangled in a quilt, I wriggle my way out, kicking the fabric off as I force myself into a sitting position. The taste of copper fills my mouth and I note I've bitten the side of my cheek in attempts to keep the screams in, blood dribbling down my chin slowly from my mouth. I look down at my hands, dazed and confused with the reality I'm in. My mama's blood is cleaned away and my baby brother's squirming body is in Carol's arms somewhere in the prison.

"Just a dream, Rebel… All just a dream," I mutter to myself, forcing myself off of the floor. The air is cool that flows through the prison through a large break in a window that is covered by half a tarp, cooling my flaming skin down as I spit a mouthful of blood into the rusty sink in my cell. I cast my quilt onto my bed, leaving it there as I stumble towards the cell door.

Silence fills the prison except for the occasional snore from the people or a crying baby from a small area sectioned off as a nursery in the prison on the fourth level. Outside the Walkers hiss, banging against the fence as they make trial and error mistakes, trying to break through the barrier that protects us. My eyes flicker around, seeing if any soul in here is awake. I hate being alone- that's my worst flaw. Constant company keeps me from going crazy in the apocalyptic world of the walking dead.

A southern accent makes me jump, seeing the man that saved me and my brother from getting our heads popped off by that demented little boy. "Still alive, I see. You've been outta it for two days, girlie. Some of tha' men here thought they were gonna have ta' pop yer' head off."

I freeze in my place, the male chuckling. I finally get a good look at him, seeing that he has brown hair that has grown down to his neck and blue eyes that resembles my father's in a way. He's skinny and lanky, his skin dark because of the sun outside where I'm sure he hangs out most of the time. "Umm…"

"I was just yankin' yer' chain, kid," the man says, snickering. "Daryl." He holds out his hand that is covered in dirt, awaiting my reply as he looks at me expectantly.

I smile lightly, placing my small hand in his and Daryl's hand closes around mine. The touch of his hand against mine starts a reaction of nervousness and uncertainty, my heart pounding against my chest as it took everything inside of me not to jump and try to claw him up. The only thing that makes sure I don't do that is a bow completed with a quiver of arrows slung across Daryl's back. "The name's Rebel."

His eyebrows shoot up, a small smirk in his face. "That's an odd name for a girl… Still, it a good one, though." Daryl releases my hand, letting it fall to my side gently as we lean against the cement walls of the prison. An awkward silence fills the air and then Daryl looks down at me, looking me over with gentle eyes. "You're awful lil' for a thirteen year old."

"It's called bein' short, Daryl," I reply, looking around at the prison contently. "How'd you guys find this place?"

"Our ringleader's wife got preggers, and then we found this place," Daryl says. "On our many expeditions to escape the Walker herds, we had to refuge here. Turned out to be like a gold mine." I can see the amusement in his blue eyes as he tells his story to another person than just the people he's hanging around on a daily basis here at the prison. "Ya' know, it's nice ta' meet somebody else 'round these parts. Want ta' know how ya' got in the woods with a baby, though."

I give a humorless laugh, looking up at Daryl with an uncomfortable smile on the topic. "You kiddin' me, Daryl? I ain't talkin' 'bout my personal life; brings back too many memories I don't wanna remember." His expression grows somber at the sight of my distress and he nods respectfully.

"I respect that, kiddo. C'mon, yer' gonna get busy ta' day with me; ya' look like a good shot." Daryl hands me a pistol- my own pistol that was taken from me in the woods. He smiles down at me lightly, placing a hand on my shoulder as he leads me down the metal steps from the prison's third level of cells. My eyes flicker around quickly, studying people who are cuddled up in cells underneath blankets, holding onto one another like their untimely demise is near; and more than likely, some of their deaths probably are. I can't tell you of how many people thought they'd survive this and then they wound up dying days or weeks later.

I smile up at Daryl, wondering why somebody who doesn't know me wants me to go on guard with them. "What'cha tryin' to pull, Daryl?" His blue eyes snap down towards me, a wondering expression on his face.

"I ain't tryin' to pull nothin'. Figured I needed to get yer' tail up and outta that cell before Carl tried to investigate s'more," Daryl says, chuckling as he leads me out of the prison's doors and into the light of early dawn. All around us are metal fences that prove to keep the Walkers from the prison; they bludgeon the fence, their angry growls filling the air, snapping their teeth at us as if they knew we'd become human happy meals.

"Good point… Carl? You mean that little demented boy that 'bout popped my head off?" I ask, remembering the event as clearly as anything. Even know I can feel his gun locking onto me as he threatened to shoot me and my brother down.

Daryl nods, looking down at me and flashes a smile. "You bet'cha, Rebel; Carl…he's a special case in some ways. He ain't…in his right state a mind." He looks back out to the jail-yard, seeing that it has been incorporated into something for everybody. There's a line of picnic tables, swings for children who come out here to play- there's even a garden with all kinds of plants and stuff in it that we can eat.

"He's cold, Daryl; I lost both my 'rents and I ain't goin' and shooting people up," I say, proving a point as Daryl leads me towards a turned over bus, helping me up on it. I stand silently, looking at all of the dead surrounding the prison gates. Those people are mothers, fathers, aunts, and uncles…some even children among the Walkers. Looking at them, I wonder why God would let this happen… Why he'd let the planet he created go to waste by such monsters; watch day by day as the human population decreased and turned into those creatures. Had our God abandoned us?

Daryl shakes his head, pointing a pistol at a Walker gnawing at the fence where we stand, popping her through the head quickly. I give a remorseful look towards her, as if I were sorry this happened to her. And I was sorry… "You prove a point, but Carl's…challenged. Carl's been in this world a long while…this is really all he knows, Rebel."

"What, killin' the livin' when the dead are actually supposed ta' be dead? Save yer' bullets from them geeks," I comment, pointing my gun towards a body, watching it rip through the thing's head. I hear Daryl whistle and then chuckle, earning a smile on my behalf. "What? You ain't seen a thirteen year old pump a bullet into a Walker's head?"

"I have; just not from a lil' girl. So, I'd like ta' get ta' know ya'" Daryl replies, looking down at me as he paces the bus. "Where ya' come from, sweetheart?"

God, the place's I've been in my life… My father was in the military, so that required us to move from state to state before the Walker outbreak. It happens that we were actually gonna move to Texas when the outbreak started up and we got caught up in Georgia. "A little town called Harmony; thought it'd be a safe haven for Mama to have the baby and a good place for us ta' settle; a place where we could call home."

"Nothing's as it seems, Rebel. The safest place can be the most dangerous- take it with those Woodbury survivors and ask them 'bout it." Daryl watches intently as I shoot another Walker, a smile on his face as he looks down at me. "Another question: how'd ya' learn ta' shoot?"

"A military base overseas; my father taught me ta' shoot when I was old enough to hold a gun on my own. I was a good shot; caught on quick. Never missed my target." Daryl nods, looking down at me silently and a few minutes pass by us, silence filling the air, making the situation awkward.

"Where's yer' 'rents now?" Daryl asks finally, his blue eyes burning with determination on figuring out if my parents are alive or if they are out there, walking around somewhere to find a human to turn into a live happy meal.

I shake my head, looking up at him. My face scrunches up into a mask of discomfort, my eyes stinging as if I want to cry. "They're dead, that's all ya' need ta' know, Daryl." I lower my body over the side of the bus, dropping to my feet, leaving Daryl alone. He probably knows we didn't hit it off like he wanted it to…little nosy bastard. I wipe tears away from my face angrily, shoving my gun into my holster as I make my way into the prison. The heat of the Georgia summer is already starting to set in, people already waking up and in their clothing that reveals enough skin to keep them cool from the sun. Women scurry around, toddlers on their hips as they scramble to a kitchen to feed the fifty or so people here, Beth and Carol being the two who stand out to me, sitting on the stairs, cooing over Judith and my brother. My mouth twists into a smile as I walk over towards them, Carol's eyes landing on me as she holds my gurgling brother.

"You're awake," she says with relief.

I smile brightly at her, silently taking my brother from her. His crystal blue eyes meet mine, his chubby little fists reaching up towards me. "Hey, kiddo; what a pretty little monster you are… Carol, thank ya' for takin' care of him for me."

"Anytime, Rebel; you were in a pretty deep sleep, girl. What was ya' dreaming about?" Carol questions, watching as I hold my brother to my chest. I feel my face pale, Carol regretting she ever brought the dream up. "I take it you ain't wanting to talk about it?"

I nod. "Best if I don't, Carol," I reply quietly. "Once 'gain, thank ya' for watchin' my brother." I smile at her lightly, looking down at the pale skinned child as he pulls on a lock of my hair.

"Don't worry about it. C'mon, let's pump some food into your system. Hershel said you need something to eat before you get too weak." Carol stands up, motioning for Beth to follow. She places a hand on my shoulder, leading me towards the room where people take seats, eating from plastic bowls. The smell of scrambled eggs fills the air along with some sausage and bacon, making my stomach rumble and I swear to God I'm slobbering more than my brother. Carol installs me at a table, leaving me as she scurries off to get me some food. My eyes flicker towards the baby, his eyes flickering around wildly.

"Okay, Lil' Lazy Ass, what's yer' name gonna be?" I scratch my head, watching has he wraps my finger in his little hand. "Jacob, Nathaniel, Caleb, Adam, Peter, James, John… Maybe even Zachariah? Damn, boy, how hard is it to name a baby?" My brother just gurgles, a bright smile on his face. "Isaiah, then?" My brighter giggles wildly, making me chuckle and I nod. "Baby Isaiah… You like that, don't you?"

"Isaiah," I murmur and I watch as he becomes content, his eyes alert as I speak the name. I smooth back his head full of blonde hair, adjusting his blue blanket silently as I wait for Carol and Beth to come back. Isaiah's eyes flicker towards Carol and I follow his gaze, the short haired woman sliding a plate of eggs and bacon in front of me accompanied by a cup of water. "Thank you, Carol."

"Anytime, Rebel; eat up and then I'll let Hershel take a look at you and your brother," Carol replies, eating some food of her own, Beth joining her as she holds Judith in one arm, eating with the other in silence.

The first bite of food tastes like heaven. It's like my body has just fully realized how starved it is since the last time I ate almost a week ago. I shovel the remainder of the food into my mouth, knowing there is no hope I'll be able to pace myself while eating. Carol chuckles at me, her blue eyes landing on Isaiah and then me, offering a small smile.

"Slow down, sweetheart; there will be some more food coming in a short while. There's more than enough here for you to eat- plus Hershel says we have to give you more rations than the others- doctor's orders." Carol beams at me, Beth chuckling wildly as she bounces Judith in her lap, the brown haired child pulling at her blanket happily, clearly amused with her new game.

I polish away the rest of my food, Isaiah pulling on a lock of my pale hair, making me smile lightly. When I look at him, I see an exact replica of my father who loved us…the very man that shot himself in the head after our mother died… The man that left us in this world alone. And I hate him for it. But I can't hate Isaiah because Mama died having him; he never did anything wrong. My poor innocent angel.

"Umm, you Rebel?" a voice asks, making me jump as I regain myself from the trance I pulled myself into. My eyes flicker towards a man with a rough looking face, his crystal blue eyes showing an apologetic emotion.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm Rebel; what's it to ya'?"

"The name's Rick Grimes," he replies. "I heard you had a run in with my boy, Carl."

"You heard right, sir. I wasn't too particularly happy when he aimed that gun at me," I reply, holding Isaiah close to me as Rick watches closely, noting about how young we both are and other things quietly.

"Sorry 'bout that… Carl's just a little of the edge," Rick says. "He ain't accepting that there's more than a life of survival." I nod, taking a drink from my cup of water and Rick smiles down at me. "That's a handsome boy you've got there."

I smile lightly. "Thank ya', Rick. He ain't mine, though; he's my brother… I'm just respectin' my mother's last wish. All she ever wanted was for my brother to have a shot at life, but I'm not sure how ta' give it to him." Rick sits next to me, placing his hand on my shoulder.

"It ain't easy with the little ones running around, is it? He's a doll, though. He have a name?" Rick asks, his eyes looking down at my little brother with wonder.

"Isaiah," I mumble quietly and Rick chuckles. The older man stands up, patting my back as he starts to walk off, hand on his gun holster as he starts to walk off towards the prison exit, meeting Daryl at the front door. Daryl Dixon's eyes meet mine, a small smile on his face as he playfully pushes Rick out of the front door.

…

I sit outside on one of the benches far away from the side of the fence where the Walkers hiss and growl, holding a sleeping Isaiah in my arms. All day long has been a sort of adventure for me; I've met countless new people, some of them being the Atlanta survivors that Carol was paired up with before she arrived here to the prison. Glenn and Maggie were the last two I have met, the couple untied and strong like anything else out here in the prison; they're even married as far as I know. The Woodbury survivors are something else, too; women, men, and children have all given me a sense of hope for the future… That Isaiah will live to see another day into this life. That is all I ever want for him now…

"Ya' know, this place may not be as bad as I thought," I whisper to the baby's sleeping body. "There are people here takin' care of us. Carol's almost like our mother, Isaiah. Oh Lordy, our mother…she was an amazing woman, little brother." Isaiah stirs, his mouth making an O as he yawns. I smile lightly, pressing a kiss to his forehead. "It's just you and me against the world, isn't it buddy?"

A hand squeezes my shoulder and I jump up, fearing for the worst when I hear a boy's voice speak. It sounds almost familiar, but cold and deadly all at the same time. The boy that shot me down in the woods is right behind me and he may just be back to finish the job he started. "The situation isn't as good for me as it is for you. Uhh, listen, Rebel; I really don't wanna apologize, but I guess it's the right thing ta' do after about gunning you and your boy down."

My eyes flicker over my shoulder to see the tiny gunman, his eyes solemn as he speaks, his voice fading into a softer tone as he really looks at me. I hold Isaiah close to me, turning around so I could look up at him. He has just a few inches on me in height and I'm much skinnier than him- not that I'm bragging- and we're both about as pale as sheets. His crystal blue eyes meet my electric blue ones; his hair curling that comes down to about the center of his neck.

"Suppose it is," I reply, watching as he wriggles around, pulling at the collar of his shirt. "Well, doll-face, you gonna stand there and stare at me like I was the last workin' T.V set in Georgia or are you gonna talk?"

Carl shakes himself from his trance, chuckling. "Sorry, not used to seeing so many girl's like ya'. The whole blonde hair-blue eyes act is takin' an effect on me."

"Yeah right, boy. Quit tryin' to butter me up ta' get on my good side; you ain't off the hook just yet. Tryin' ta' gun a baby and his older sis' down…then tryin' to be all buddy-buddy with me? What the hell you tryin' to pull, Carl?" I hold Isaiah close to me, cradling his head to my chest as if to protect him from Carl.

"Just tryin' to figure you out," he says quietly. "You're a free-spirited soul…not so common among the girls now a day."

I just smile slyly at him, holding the sleeping baby to my chest as I start to walk inside. "You ain't gonna figure me out, Carl. I'm a closed book and I much prefer it if I remain that way." He laughs, rolling his blue eyes as I shuffle inside of the prison. Once I'm behind the walls of the prison, I let out the air I held in, my heart beating wildly. The boy's trying to get into my walls and I'm afraid I won't be able to stop him… I'm a book and he's just waiting to read the chapters to my life…now I've just gotta find a way to keep my secrets behind lock and key, or Carl's gonna find his way into my life forever.


	3. Carl's Crazy and Rick's Catastrophic

**Thank you to my many reviewers for the last chapter. I know the second chapter took a little while longer to write- we had to move to Texas, BLAHHH. Anyways, I really do hope that everybody enjoys this chapter and leave me many reviews! I will reply to reviews at the end of this chapter.**

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I stare up at the brick ceiling of my cell in silence, playing with a piece of chalk that was underneath my bed that I found when I dropped Isaiah's bottle earlier- it wasn't the ideal toy I wanted to play with, but I was pretty much bored to death at this point. Sleep hasn't been so graceful to me as it has been on most nights during my stay here at the prison; it comes and goes, running away from me when I'm at my sleepiest and I'm left in a sea of restlessness. All around me I can hear the soft snores of the other survivors in their cells, already lulled off into sleep, dreaming about what their lives were like before the world became a playpen for the walking dead. I can't dream about what my life was like then…it reminds me of my parents, my friends, my extended family…the mistakes and regrets I can't get cleaned up because everybody I've ever loved is out there somewhere, wandering around in the form of a Walker or are barely hanging onto life, still fighting to see another day…hoping to find somebody they know to cling to; to find a reason to live another day only to starve and grow old…to be bitten and then reanimate again. Everybody outside of these walls are dead men…my family is gone…what other reason do I have to fight for other than Isaiah to see the light of another day?

My eyes finally lock onto the cell walls, looking at the chalk marks grouped into fives. I can think of a man who was lying in this cell, counting down the days until he was able to go home to his wife and see his children…maybe even meet the newest addition to his family that was probably just born…and then all hell broke loose. Maybe that prisoner is one of the many Walkers outside of this prison, bludgeoning the fence to get inside to turn us into a human happy meal. But nonetheless, the man whose story that is hidden in this cell has a life he was hoping to return to…he was a living person. Maybe one day mine and Isaiah's markings will be left upon the walls of this cell when we are gone from this earth one day, another person who is living in here may just know our story, too.

Carl's voice sounds from the darkness of the stairway, his footsteps sounding. "It was lights-out over two hours ago, Rebel. Your lantern is still on." I watch as he sticks his head into my cell, his crystal eyes meeting mine.

"Yer' still awake, too; I can hear yer' mouth all the way from the other end of tha' third level," I answer, my voice not coming above a whisper because of Isaiah who is sleeping peacefully in the bassinette next to me.

He chuckles quietly, leaning against the brick opening of my cell. "Ya' can't sleep either? That makes two of us." Carl smiles gently, walking into my cell and silently sits next to me on the bed. The boy looks at peace to me…like there isn't anything really pestering at him anymore.

I nod silently, keeping my eyes locked on Isaiah. "Guess so… What brings ya' ta' my cell, Carl?" I was still pretty uncomfortable around him, but I've learned to keep that feeling down somewhat. I've even been trying to make myself like him a little more than he likes me; I try to be the bigger person for both of our sakes. The last thing everybody needs here in the prison is two feuding teenagers with raging hormone levels at each other's throats 24/7.

"Jus' wanting to talk to ya'… Last time you an' I had any contact was when you were with yer' boy," Carl replies quietly, tinkering around with his fingers in silence, looking towards the concrete floor. His eyes follow my gaze and they rest on Isaiah's bassinette and he nods in acknowledgement. "I take it that ya' would do anything for him, wouldn't ya'?"

A small smile works its way onto my lips. "I'd go an' kill all of those Walkers for him if I had to. My brother's too important ta' loose, Carl." I finally look at Carl, the look on the boy's face almost making me pity him, but I knew he didn't want that. He probably wants nothing more than human contact and doesn't know how to say anything about it…

"I'd do tha' same for Judith… My mom told me ta' take care of her; that was her dyin' wish." Carl takes his hat off, looking at Isaiah in silence and I stand up silently, walking over towards his bed. "What'cha doin', Rebel?"

In the dim light of the cell from my lantern, I can see my brother's little smile playing on his lips. I lift him up, adjusting his baby blanket around him and walk back over towards Carl. The crystal eyed teenager silently studies Isaiah, reaching his hand over and strokes his little hand. _God, hard-headed Carl Grimes is a softy for babies? He ain't that badass everybody says he is, _I think quietly, watching as Isaiah stirs, opening his electric blue eyes. For the first time since I've been here, I think Carl has really taken the chance to look over the both of us…especially Isaiah. "He's gorgeous, ain't he?"

Carl nods, studying Isaiah's smile and his facial features. "He looks like you, Rebel."

I silently reach over onto the night stand beside of the bed, grabbing the bottle filled with water and I mix the powered formula into the water in silence. "He does, doesn't he? But why are ya' really in here, Carl? Tryin' ta' butter me up 'gain?"

He shakes his head, rolling his eyes. "Nah… This time I came ta' apologize…ta' really apologize. I was really outta place doin' you and Isaiah like that."

I nod, peering down at Isaiah who is dozed back into sleep, having gas-guzzled half of the bottle. I smile, taking the bottle from him in silence as I listen to Carl's quiet words. My eyes flicker towards Carl who is waiting on an answer and I sigh, trying to think of something to come up with to give him the answer to his question. "I accept yer' apology, Grimes; but there's a lot more you'll have ta' do ta' gain my trust and respect. There's no way that lil' murders find a way onto my Good Graces list."

Carl scratches the back of his head in silence and he bites his lower lip, looking for an excuse. "I can live with that… So where does this long road of trust start at?"

I shake my head, chuckling lightly. "When I feel like I can see more humanity in ya'."

Carl nods, both of us already starting to doze into sleep, catching ourselves before me fell onto the bed or the concrete floor for that matter of fact. Reaching over towards Isaiah, Carl gently takes him into his arms and I watch quietly but carefully as he lays him in his bassinette. Moments pass as Carl stares down at Isaiah and then before he can look at me, I close my eyes in silence, pretending to doze off into sleep. I feel Carl's hands gently lower towards the bed, pulling off my boots and then he spreads the quilt that was folded at the foot of my bed over me. The warmth of the lantern fades away along with the dim light of my cell, Carl's footsteps and the squeaking sound of my closing cell door telling me he's returning to his cell.

I smile sneakily, a haze of dreams pulling me off into sleep; the last think I can remotely remember thinking of is how Carl isn't that demented little creature he's all cracked up to be. There's a human being somewhere in there…and I'm the one that's going to get it out of him one way or another.

…

I lean against the metal railing of the watch tower, adjusting my hat in silence as I hold onto my gun with my other hand. Sneaking up here is probably the best way I can really clear my mind and get away from the small group here at the prison. Besides, nobody is on shift at the moment anyways; it isn't like anybody's gonna jump on me for being in the watch tower.

My eyes flicker towards the individuals outside who work in the gardens of the prison and the children that are playing some kind of game. Life continues to carry on normally here even though corpses bludgeon the fence, hissing and growling at them like they were their next meal. Adults continue to work and grow older; kids continue to run around and play, not a care in the world on their minds because they're protected. So then where's my place in life? It isn't among the adults or children, I can tell you that right now.

"Girlie, aren't ya' supposed ta' be somewhere chasin' butterflies or talkin' about how much ya' hate life er' somethin'?" Daryl's voice sounds from behind me, my body freezing. My eyes flicker towards the blue eyed man and I hear him start to laugh. "Nice ta' see ya' 'gain, Rebel; I thought you'd never come outta yer' little shell."

I smile lightly at him, the man standing next to me as we peer down towards the people who continue to work…just watching a scene of life carry out. "My lil' shell consists of a baby, Daryl. Ain't much time to come out when there's a baby that gas-guzzles formula and he's a mischievous lil' bastard."

"I heard ya' named him. Carol and Carl said ya' named him Isaiah," Daryl says quietly, looking down at me with a gentle expression on his face.

"Yeah, I did. I picked the name because it means 'God is with me.' God's protected Isaiah so far…it seemed appropriate at tha' time." I look down at my dirk caked nails, Daryl giving a low whistle at him as if he were surprised. "What?"

"This world turned into hell…God forsook us, Rebel. Tha' man abandoned us." Daryl seems almost serious and I shake my head, pushing my pale curls away from my face in silence.

"God gives me faith and hope…and what else is there ta' grasp 'hold of? Hope's all we got, Daryl… We can't lose that, now ya' hear?" I give the older man a look and he nods respectfully.

"I'll respect ya' on that and yer' religion. Ya' know, yer' not that bad, Rebel."

"I guess ya' ain't that bad either…ya' nosy lil' bastard," I say, making him laugh wildly. He ruffles my blonde curls gently, rolling his big blue eyes at me. "Friends?"

"Ya' got it, kiddo. Friends," Daryl says quietly, making sure we were the only two that could hear since the people having quit talking, the children having returned inside. Silence falls between us once again and Daryl coughs, looking down at me. "Where was ya' when this crap started happening?" He gestures to the Walkers, my eyes growing wide. "And how'd ya' survive?" His words take me back into the memories of the first few days of hell on earth, reality fading out of focus as the memory of being attacked by those monsters storms me.

…

_I shoved the duffel bag into the back of the car that was filled with my clothing, my eyes flickering towards my father who carried large boxes of some other belongings. He looked troubled as far as I knew; the frustrated look on his face gave him away as concerned and the stuff on the radio piled up on top of that._

"_Daddy, are ya' okay? What's tha' matter?" I asked and looked up at him._

_He gave a half-hearted smile. "Just stressed because of tha' move, Rebel. Go on in and help yer' mother with the bags, 'kay?" My father ruffled my blonde curls and I left to go inside. Around us people shoved whatever they could into their cars, panicked over some kind of nonsense. _

"_**We recommend that you stay inside at all times with the doors locked and went shut down tightly at all times. If you need to go out, stay on the side of daylight and be armed. These conditions are only temporary- the National Guard will have everything under control shortly," **__the news reporter said, his voice coming from the radio._

_My heart dropped at the sound of my screaming mother. "Fredrick! Help me, please!" I ran inside of the house, the sound of shattering glass filling my ears, audible hisses pestered at me as I scattered into the kitchen._

"_Mama?!" I screamed and ran into the kitchen._

_Her wide green eyes pierced mine. "Rebel, get outta here! Get in tha' car and lock all tha' doors!" But her voice couldn't call my attention. It was the corpse that had caught my attention that tried to attack her. And it looked straight at me._

_A bullet whizzed past my body and it implanted into the dead man's skull. Daddy ran inside and picked Mama up from the floor, his eyes flickered towards me. "Rebel, go out to tha' car! Baby, we've gotta run now. There are more of them things followin' us now."_

_I looked up at him with petrified eyes and walked towards our Ford, jumping into the back of the car. I locked the doors and my parents followed and jumped in quickly. Daddy reversed the car and started towards the highway and away from our home. I looked out the back window where the trunk was, bodies stumbling along the road, following us and I shook my head, thinking of what a waste that this world had turned to._

…

"We were in Atlanta," I say, my voice hoarse. "Mama was nearly bit and we fled… That's all we knew how ta' do… We were stuck outside of the city for so long Daddy thought it was a death trap and moved us ta' a remote location. We scavenged. We hunted. My father killed, even."

I feel Daryl pull me into a hug, his comforting hands rubbing my back gently. "We all do what we have ta' do, don't we? Don't worry, Rebel…you don't have ta' worry 'bout that, here. Yer' safe now."Nodding, I hide my face in Daryl's shirt, hiding the tears that I never knew how to contain. Crying isn't something I do often and I have to have good reason to ever let tears well up in my eyes. I was raised tough and that's how I intend to keep it.

"It's okay, ya' know?"

"It's okay to do what, Daryl?"

"Ta' cry… That's how we hold to humanity, Rebel…" He gently pushes me away from him, smiling down at me. I clutch his hand in mine and he ruffles my blonde hair again. "C'mon, puppy-dog eyes…yer' gonna make me all teary; not good for my tough guy reputation 'round here… Let's go find Carol so we can eat."

I follow him silently down the steps, all right in the world when I hear the loud voice of Rick Grimes. He sound almost hysterical and I can hear a gun cocking in the midst of the noise of the prisoners outside. Daryl and I peer towards the grown man who is having an episode, his crystal eyes holding a psychotic look. But what really scared me was that he levels his gun at me, his eyes angry and confused.

"Why can't you stay dead, you stupid bitch? I said leave alone!" Rick screeches, his voice angered. "Go away! Jus' leave me alone, Lori!" His hand is shaking; his index finger ready to shoot me down and I feel Daryl silently tuck me behind him. This isn't good…not good at all.

Daryl's bright blue eyes meet mine and he points towards Carl and Glenn who watch with panicked expressions, both hands on their pistols. "Rebel, if he pulls any kinda crap, I want you ta' run as fast as ya' can to Carl and Glenn. I'll try to distract him…" Daryl's voice his cut off by an angry body pushing him aside, Rick's hands clutching me by my throat. I heard his gun cock and he lifted the Python up towards my head and I wriggled around.

"I'll make sure yer' dead this time…"

Then I heard a gun go off.

And I don't know if I was the one being shot at or not because I was already fading away, the breath leaving my body, darkness pulling me in like tidal waves and they pull me under with them for my own battle against whatever assault Rick is leading against me.

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**livelovemusic96: Thank you very much for giving me the motivation to continue writing. A writer needs to hear those words to carry on with their writing!**

**Anna the Viking: Aww, you think I'm good at writing?! Thank you very much and I look forward to your reviews! New chapters will follow and with more ideas and suggestions from others, I may have a review every two or three days!**

**GeminiCross: Isaiah's your ex's name…what a coincidence, lol. Thank you for saying you liked the story! Always looking for reviewers like you!**

**RebelA2013: Thank you for your review! Sorry I haven't given you the updates as fast as you have wanted. I've been under a lot of stress by moving around a lot. And thank you for complimenting me on my spelling, grammar, and punctuation! You made me smile while reading that!**

**Me: Thanks for saying it is an amazing story! That gives me all the more reason to continue writing it for everybody else. I'm really glad you enjoy this and you said that I gave life to the characters; that gives me more motivation and inspiration to continue writing. I am always looking for your next review!**


	4. Here and Now

**Thanks to everybody that reviewed last chapter! I was tickled by everybody's reviews and it made my days a little brighter in writing this! Hope everybody enjoys this chapter and I'm always open to ideas or anything else anybody wants to leave in reviews or PMs!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking Dead or any of its materials- I just own Rebel and her little monster of a brother**

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Carl sits next to me, clutching my small hand in his. Tears threaten to flow over his eyes, a concerned expression on his face as he looks between me and then Hershel, watching closely as if the elderly man would slip in examining me. Each look he gives Hershel is almost threatening; as if he'd kill him if he screwed up in any way; when he looks at me his expression softens, coming out of the angered state that he was entering into as Hershel listens to my shallow breathing, checking my lungs with his stethoscope. The prison is still panicked, the inhabitants talking in hushed voices about Rick Grimes choking out the little blonde girl who is me. All eyes peer into my cell from the stairwell, adults and children talking about how this could affect me and maybe even the entire prison. From my spot on the bed, I can make out Carol's upset face, tears falling freely as she clutches Isaiah close to her body. Daryl is pacing the front of my cell, peeking in at Hershel, giving him similar looks that Carl gives, terrified as he looks at me, noting that there's bruises on my neck. He looks to be on the very edge of insanity with the angry look in his eyes.

"Rebel's okay, isn't she?" Carl asks, desperate for an answer from Hershel. He squeezes my fingers reassuringly, using his free hand to rub my arm gently. We've never been this close since the other night and I can tell the Carl has been longing for human closeness ever since then.

Hershel coughs, his voice quiet as he speaks. "The girl will be fine, Carl. She's just shaken up a bit." The elderly man pats me on the shoulder, looking out to the crowd that is gathered at the opening of the cell, watching in silence, relief written across their faces. "Rebel, you do need to rest, though. I'll be in here to check on you in a little while." Grabbing his crutches, he makes his way out of the cell, shooing the crowd off and gently pokes Maggie as she looks inside intently.

I take in a deep breath, hiding my face in my hands. All of the attention that is focused on me is uncomfortable; the whispers that float around adds onto the stress of Rick Grimes choking me out in the prison yard. Just a few moments of peace is all I require before I go the extra bat-crazy mile on everybody here in this prison; not that I mind Carl being with me, though.

"You're okay," Carl says quietly.

I shake my head, forcing myself to form words out of mouth, my throat screaming with pain. "I don't know if I am er' not." The voice that comes from my mouth sounds nothing like my own; it is so low and quiet, almost strangled by hoarseness. Carl's eyes grow wide at the sound of my hoarse voice and I can see an apologetic look in his big blue eyes.

Carl squeezes my hand gently, looking down at me. "I'm so sorry, Rebel. My father has been off of his rocker since my mother died; he sees her wherever he goes sometimes." The apologetic tone in his voice is genuine and somewhat soothing to me, causing some kind of comfort.

"No, don't be sorry for me," I snap, looking up at him. "You don't be sorry for yer' father's mistakes, either. Ya' know, I can understand where he's comin' from." Carl nods, intertwining our finger gently. My eyes flicker down towards our clasped fingers and I realize how much I've been missing this kind of human contact. Carl moves closer to me, wrapping his arms around me lightly and my eyes grow wide at his touch; every single nerve becomes a live wire, causing a cold shiver to run up my spine. I lift up my arms weakly, wrapping my small arms around him and I allow my body to rest against him, tucking my head underneath his chin.

"I'm so sorry he hurt you," Carl whispers. "I don't think I could live with myself if Dad hurt anybody I loved…especially you, Rebel."

I shake my head, not saying a word as the blue eyed teenager pulls me close to him. Carl rubs my back soothingly, offering some kind of serenity away from the chaos that has just taken place. His rapidly beating heart comforts me, assuring me that he's here and that he's caring for me. My eyes flicker towards Daryl, Carol, Maggie, and Beth who have gathered at my cell, Glenn not far behind; they all still hold the same panicked expression they held when I regained consciousness, their bodies rigid with concern.

Daryl's voice breaks the silence, hitting all octaves in the process. "You okay, girlie?"

My mouth twists into a smile…maybe the most pitiful smile that anybody ever gave. That probably leads them on to think that I'm worse that what I let on. "I've been choked into unconsciousness and then a gun was put to my head…I'm traumatized."

"Yeah, she'll be fine. Just give 'er few days an' she'll be up an' running 'gain," Daryl comments, motioning the others inside. I move from Carl's arms and the man hugs me, lifting me off of the ground carefully. My arms lock around Daryl's neck, clinging to him tightly and he gives me a gentle pat on the back. "I'm glad yer' okay, Short Stack; nobody ain't ever gonna do you like that 'again."

I nod, righting myself on my feet as Daryl puts me back on the floor. I scamper over towards Carol who holds Isaiah in her arms, the infant looking around with confused eyes. She hands him over to me and I clutch him to my chest, relieved that I'm here for him…and not six feet under the ground in the prison graveyard with whoever kicked the bucket here before I came along.

Isaiah giggles and pulls on a lock of my pale hair, gracing me with a smile. I chuckle, kissing him lightly on the forehead.

"I'm glad to see you, too, Isaiah."

…

I poke around at what little food is on my plate, not particularly hungry for anything. My throat still bothers me and it hurts to swallow sometimes, so whatever the ladies cooked up tonight is clearly out of the question. Adrenaline still pumps through my system from where I fought against Rick's hands, survival mode having taken over me. Everybody has saw the animal that this world has made me become…the monster inside that is ravage and unforgiving; a little killer that couldn't fight off the man that has officially went the extra bat-crazy mile. That rush of panic still flows through me, creating a disturbance inside of my body; everybody today has scared the hell out of me, no doubt. I remember the few times I almost sucker-punched Carl in the face because he was being sneaky and decided to play stalker all day.

The Georgia sun is setting over the horizon; we still have a few more hours of day light left before it is curfew and then Carl or somebody will have to manually pull me back inside of the prison. I've always been terrified of the dark ever since I was a small child; I remember that the pastor at church would talk about the darkness bringing out the monsters and whatever else bad there is in the world. From there my strange little phobia of darkness started. Before this entire ordeal happened, I'd have my room light up with night lights in all of the outlets and then turn on the two lamps in my room to chase away the monsters from under my bed or from the closet. Now with no electricity, the monsters and every little creep and creek of the inhabitants of the prison or the sounds of the beds settling under everybody's weights can terrify me; the distant sound of Walkers even stirs me up enough to the point where I'm restless.

"Are ya' okay, Rebel?" Carl's voice breaks the silence I've found myself in, making me jump and my plate of food almost drops out of my lap. I hear him make a stressed sound and the teenager scampers over to me, sitting down next to me. He looks down at the plate of food he gave me and he sighs, shaking his head.

I brush my blonde hair from my eyes. "Define tha' term 'Okay.'" I gulp, rubbing my eyes as Carl sighs and he silently takes the food from my lap and puts it next to him on the concrete steps of the prison. His fingers intertwine with mine, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Is tha' whole ordeal with my dad takin' its toll on ya'?" Carl asks, clutching my hand in his.

I give him a humorous smirk, shaking my head in mock happiness. "No, I'm 'kay with tha' fact a grown fella' thought I was his dead wife and tried ta' kill me." Carl's eyes narrow in on me and we glare daggers at one another, but one thing I notice is that he never lets go of my hand. He only holds it tighter.

"'Kay, smart-ass, I'll take that as yer' still in panic mode," Carl replies, making a half-hearted smile come onto my face. This time he smiles, too, chuckling a little bit as we lean against the steps of the prison's court yard. "Why haven't ya' ate, yet?"

"It kinda hurts ta' swallow anything," I admit. "Plus I'm still on a live wire, ya' know? Eating will just make me sick like it had done earlier." Carl wraps his free arm around my shoulder, pulling me into a hug and I hug him back, burying my head into the crook of his neck.

"God as my witness, Rebel…I promise that I'll protect you from anything…even if it is my own father or my group. I don't wanna end up losing you; you're too important to me." He speaks quietly and smoothly, only the two of us being able to hear the words Carl exchanges with me.

I cock my eyebrows, pulling out of our embrace. "Since when did ya' start with tha' mushy crap, eh? I thought you were the little lone wolf that didn't get attached ta' anybody." I smile lightly at him and Carl nudges my shoulder playfully.

"After my mother died having Judith, I just went downhill. Everything was cold…ya' know, don't ya'? Then we started fighting with a neighborin' place called Woodbury when Daryl Dixon's crack head of a brother took Glenn and Maggie… My father was seein' my mom and he went absolutely crazy…that's why he got ya'. He thought ya' were Mom. Guess that the more I lost myself in the insanity of my father's shadow, the more I've become like him." Carl's eyes well up with tears and our hands clasp tightly.

"Then Daryl an' I found you an' Isaiah out there in tha' woods… God, I didn't want ta' point that gun at ya; you were so innocent…so full of the hope and the humanity I lost. Puttin' ya' out of yer' misery seemed almost appropriate."

I smile lightly at him, winding my arms around him and Carl hugs me back, running his fingers through my hair. "Yer' tha' only person I've opened up to since this entire ordeal has happened… I don't want ta' lose ya, Rebel." Carl's sobbing into my shoulder now, his hands clutching the back of my shirt and I sigh quietly, rubbing his back gently.

"It's okay, Carl…" I say, unsure of what to do. I know how to shut Isaiah up when he's crying, but a grown boy is the complete opposite of an upset baby. "Ya' ain't gonna lose me… I'm always stayin' right here, Grimes." I hug the sniffling boy close to me, ruffling his hair. "Now stop tryin' to snot all o'er me, boy…"

The both of us find the crude humor in that and we laugh, Carl pulling from my arms and the both of us take a step, laying down on the concrete as we stare up towards the pale colored sky ablaze with colors like orange from the sun, wispy pink looking clouds, and an odd green color. As the sun starts to fade, I can faintly see the stars and the moon peeping from their veil of the pale blue sky.

"Beautiful, ain't it?" I ask, contented.

Carl smiles lightly. "Probably one of the last things that is beautiful in the world… Rebel, how'd you survive tha' beginning of this hell?"

"We took off without thinkin' about what was bein' left behind. Just me, my father, and my mother were the three people that traveled around. We lived on the border between S.C and Georgia, so we did some travelin' ta' get this far. What 'bout you, Grimes?" My eyes flicker between Carl's face and then our clasped hands, listening to him speak silently.

"We lived in King County…not too far from here considering it's close to Atlanta. My father was shot and he was in a coma… His best friend, Shane, took my mother and me out of there when the Outbreak hit us. We spent two months not knowing if my father was alive or not… Can you imagine that, Rebel? Not knowing if your own father was alive or not?"

I nod, giving a solemn smile. "I know the feeling exactly. My father was a marine and was sometimes in Iraq for months and months… Every single day I prayed to God to show my father the way home when he was fighting; and somehow by God's grace he was the first one off of that air plane that we saw." Tears well up in my eyes at the thought of my father not being here with me, but I know he's home. The man that cared for me growing up is somewhere on a cloud with white angel wings, so is my mother.

"What happened to your parents? Did they get infected with the virus?" Carl asks, looking down at me, propping himself up on his elbow. "Or were they just killed all together?"

"My mother died having Isaiah. She had such a high fever from an infection and she was so weak…she hardly even had the strength to sit up even with support. Then she finally died under the stress of giving birth to Isaiah," I whisper, my voice hoarse. "And then my father shot himself in the head…he blames this all off on me and the baby." I close my eyes, my vision clouding and I still can remember what he did to himself like it was just yesterday that he put a bullet through his own head.

…

"_You ain't dead! No! Mama, please wake up!" I screech, petrified as I look down at my mother. Her wide green eyes are a diluted grey, no life within her. More than likely it was just a matter of minutes or hours before she'll reanimate…I just don't have the will-power to put the bullet into her head. In my arms the bloody infant lets out deafening shrieks, arms and legs flailing as he lets the entire world know he has made his entrance…as if the world cared that he was here or not._

_My father's distressed voice sounds from behind me, already starting to screech at the top of his lungs. The former marine literally springs onto the bed, his large hand pushing me out of the way as he looks down at the woman that has kept this family held together by nothing but strings that are now left to fray. I wrap the newborn in my coat, sobbing quietly as I watch my father grieve over my mother's dead, bloody body. My eyes flicker down towards the infant, taking in a good look at him. His pale hair is matted with blood and he's got the biggest blue eyes I've ever seen in my life…this is another life I have to live for now. This baby is all I have to live for._

_Dad's voice is harsh as he speaks through gritted teeth, standing up angrily. His eyes run blood red…a common trait when he's extremely angry and his face pales. His muscled arm raises and I'm met by a slap across the face, pain exploding through my jaw. My hand flies to the side of my face, my other arm clutching my brother to my chest._

"_She's dead, Rebel; she's dead 'cause of you!" Daddy shrieks, his body trembling._

_Blood dribbles down my busted lip and then on down my chin, dropping to the wooden floor beneath me. "There was nothin' I could do! How's this my fault?! You were tha' dumbass that got 'er pregnant!" I push myself up from the floor shakily, spitting blood from my mouth._

"_Ya' couldn't do anything ta' help 'er?! Nothin' ta' ease 'er pain or bring tha' fever down?"_

"_She had an infection! I couldn't do didley-squat! You ain't blaimin' be or this child, ya' here?! Be a man, 'kay?" _

_My father points at the baby boy in my arms, shaking his head. He gives a humorless laugh, coldness filling this voice. "Listen here, ya' little bitch… That lil' monster or whatever just killed yer' mother…an' ya' don't care? Tha' lil' bastard was a mistake…"_

_The side of my face numbs, my left eye losing vision with it. "Quit doin' this ta' me, Daddy! There ain't nothin' we can do now! I need yer' help raisin' this baby! What would Mama want ya' ta' do, huh?" He stands still, staring at me now. Fists clenched, he tries to keep whatever raging monster he has inside of him locked away, but his eyes lock on the baby._

"_She'd want tha' monster dead… I ain't livin' like this, girl. If ya' want the kid, have 'em; yer' mother's the only thing that held us together…now she's gone. All because of you and yer' Satan's spawn… I ain't forgiven either of ya'." He pulled his gun out of the holster and he cocked it. I thought he was gonna shoot us._

"_What would tha' Lord do, Daddy? Blame two innocent kids for something we couldn't control? No, he'd forgive…"_

_He points the gun to his head and I panic; a longing glare in his eyes for Mama and then the hatred for me and my brother. "Rebel, I ain't Jesus. I won't forgive." And then he pulls the trigger, landing on the bed right beside of my mother._

…

Carl and I stare at one another, tears streaking down our faces violently from what little story I just told. Our bodies are shaking, cold chills running up the lengths of our spines. Carl reaches his hand out that continues to shake, wiping the tears away from my face and then he pulls me close to him. I hide my face in the crook of his neck, clutching his body close to me as I cling to him. His fingers run through my hair comfortingly, hushing me through his sloppy words.

"Shh. It's okay, Rebel; you're okay…" he whispers, pulling me closer to him. "It ain't yer' fault and it ain't Isaiah's. The world is evil and cruel and sick…there's bound ta' be nothin' but death."

"Yer' still holdin' me," I say, sobbing into his shoulder, almost flabbergasted that he still holds me in his arms. "Why ain't you tryin' ta' push me away? Why ain't you sayin' what a sick creature I am?"

"You didn't kill yer' mother," Carl says, his voice shaky. "You ain't guilty. Rebel, I'm always right here; my arms are always wide open to you- whether it is to cry on or just for comfort…I'm right here and nothin' ain't changing that. Right now is important…"

I allow myself to really break down, having not cried like this since my mother died. All of the anger, pain, confusion, longing, and desire spill out of me as I cling to the Grimes boy that has given me a new sense of life away from the haunting memories of what used to be my parents. Carl gently pulls out of our embrace, cupping my face in both of his hand.

"Rebel, take in a deep breath," Carl says. "Ya' need ta' cool down a bit before we go back inside, 'kay? Listen ta' me; it ain't yer' fault that yer' parents are dead. Your mother was deathly ill and yer' father was just a conceded bastard lookin' for somebody else ta' take tha' blame. You an' Isaiah are as innocent as anybody else here at this prison." He squeezes my hands gently, offering a small smile. "I'm here for you whenever you need somebody to talk to…we could be really close friends."

I smile at him, drying my tears from my eyes. "Thank you, Carl." Sniffling, I stand up and Carl follows in suit, taking my small hand in his.

He hugs me gently and then his crystal blue eyes flicker over towards the silhouette in the doorway. "What are ya' two kiddies doin' out here? Rebel, have ya' been cryin'?" Daryl's voice fills the air and his eyes grow wide. "And I see Mr. Stone Heart has melted. C'mon, it's almost curfew." He leads us inside and I smile at Carl again.

"Yer' somethin' else, Grimes," I reply silently, sniffling.

Carl smile at me, too. "I know I am… C'mon, let me walk you back to yer' cell." He holds his arm out and I chuckle, allowing him to lead me to the third level of the prison to my cell. I throw my arms around him, Carl hugging me back tightly.

"I haven't met anybody like ya' in quite some time," I say quietly, pushing my blonde hair from my eyes.

"Guess I'm one of tha' rare ones," Carl jokes, making me snicker wildly.

I squeeze his hand, feeling him return the pressure. "Goodnight, Carl." I reach up on my tip-toes, kissing his cheek and Carl's face runs bright red. I release him and he stands there, staring at me with wide eyes and his mouth sort of hangs open. I laugh, waving at him as I look into Isaiah's bassinette to see that Beth has already placed him there for me, sound asleep.

"'Night, Rebel," he says. I smile at him and he stumbles down the stairway and literally jumps into his cell, making a smile come onto my face.

I switch on the lantern in my cell, light filling the room and I lay down on my bed. My body still shivers from the memory that I had shared with Carl but strangely enough, I feel somewhat relieved that he had me in his arms. I try to make my mind run blank, but thoughts of Carl run bounce around my head rapidly. Ever since this morning I've noticed the way the boy looks at me and I think he notices the way I look at him. The both of us knew that there was nothing to be done… I liked Carl and Carl likes me…

But I'm just scared to fall in love.


	5. Food Run

**Thanks to everybody that reviewed! Thanks to everybody that has complimented towards my writing and the ways I can convey emotions with my characters; the reviews just give me more and more inspiration to continue writing and putting effort into the characters in the Walking Dead. I will answer to reviews at the end of the chapter!**

**(I always forget to post this -_-) Disclaimer: I do not own the Walking dead or any of its materials. I just own Rebel and Isaiah.**

* * *

I hold Isaiah in my lap gently, the three-week old looking around contently, trying to hold his head up on his own. His eyes dart towards Judith Grimes who his in Carol's arms, giving her a gummy smile and the both of them seem to enjoy one another's company. Carol and I find humor in the two babies, watching as they reached their tiny hands out for one another. They've been like this all morning- just playing around and have found some kind of interest with one another. Carol and I haven't been able to separate them for longer than thirty minutes without them becoming fussy or just screaming bloody murder all together.

Today has been peaceful for everybody here at the prison; the mention of Rick has been low and everybody seems to think I'm okay now since the incident over about five days ago. Carl and I have grown closer since his father tried that funny business. There's times where we can't really stay away from one another a big bunch of the time. We've asked Glenn, who has taken over in Rick's position since Carl denied it to spend time with me and Judith, to put us on guard duty together at night and then give us some jobs in the kitchen together. Our free time usually consists of the girls forcefully taking the babies from us and then they kick us out to the prison yard where we goof around on the play ground. We are teenagers with some kind of crazy, love-like relationship and we can't deny it at all. I like Carl and he likes me.

"So how's the throat doing?" Carol asks, adjusting Judith on her lap. "Carl said it was still bothering you a bit."

I shake my head, dismissing her question. "It doesn't hurt like it used ta'. Swallowing stuff doesn't bother me as bad an' talking isn't that big of a challenge." I squeak with a light sound of pain, Isaiah's chubby hands pulling a lock of my pale curls, his giggling laughter filling the air.

Carol chuckles at Isaiah, watching him as he tries to rip my hair off; even Judith laughs in delight of the sight of her friend trying to tear me to pieces. "That's nice to know. You're getting better and we can't afford another hurt person as it is."

"Another hurt person? What tha' hell happened?" I ask, bouncing Isaiah gently as he pulls on the edge of my shirt sleeve. "Somebody fall off of tha' Watch Tower?"

Carol chuckles, the both of us finding some kind of dark humor in the statement. "No, Rebel; but actually two nimrods got into a fight last night over their food rations. We're starting to run low on supplies… There's three ladies here about to pop, so that means we'll have to find more baby clothes; all of the medical supplies are starting to dwindle slowly; plus we need some more water and we'll have to go and cut wood. We're starting to run low, Rebel." Carol looks down at Judith who is gnawing on her hands, telling us that she's hungry and Carol sighs, already knowing that she'll have to ration the formula out.

Carl's body comes into my line of vision, the blue eyed teenager sitting next to me. He holds two bottles of baby formula and two bottles of water. But the strange thing is that they're only each half full. "Sorry about the baby formula, Rebel. Glenn says we have to start rationing everything now." Carl squeezes my hand gently, our fingers intertwining.

"Don't worry," I say quietly, taking the bottle from him. "This is usually a little more than Isaiah eats anyway." Isaiah's little hands reach towards the bottle, making some kind of sound that neither me or Carl could identify. I chuckle, bringing the bottle to Isaiah's mouth quietly, watching him drink the horrid smelling liquid that all babies drink.

Carl coughs, looking between me and Carol. "We're organizing a run to get some supplies. They're looking for a person who really knows the area because we're gonna have to spread out quite a bit this time since we've really drained all of the other places."

I nod, thinking of how far my father and I traveled to get supplies. We had almost traveled the entire state of Georgia trying to find stuff, in which we did, but there is one place that we were gonna bust into and it turns out that it isn't too far from the prison, either. The only thing was that it was surrounded by Walkers and we had to jump back into the truck and head back to the town before nightfall. That place will probably be our first stop since I know the way to it.

"Count me in," I say. "My father an' I have the state of Georgia mapped out in places where supplies are tha' most plentiful. There's a place we were meaning ta' break into 'bout four months ago." Carl's expression turns hopeful and he places a bottle of water in my hand, smiling gratefully.

"I'll go tell Glenn that you're up to tha' challenge," Carl says, squeezing my hand gently before returning it to my side. He kisses my forehead gently; smiling as he scampers off towards Glenn who is jabbering at a group of people who I presume is going on the run with us. I look towards Carol who is struggling to hold in her laughter at me and I can see Beth who is cackling on the stairwell while she's folding laundry.

I roll my eyes, my face still glowing furiously with a red blush. "You're the one that's laughing now but I'll catch you with Daryl one of these days," I snap, pulling the bottle from Isaiah's mouth, standing up with him so I could lay him down in his bassinette in my cell. My statement only makes Carol laugh harder, Beth almost dropping onto the floor. I stalk into my cell, laying Isaiah down in his bed. My eyes flicker towards my backpack that has been forgotten the last three weeks I've been here. Opening it, I sort through the contents I haven't been able to look at. A few pairs of clothing, some shoes for when Isaiah learns to walk, medicines like Asprin and two first aid kits, cough syrup, a pack of crackers, and buried down at the bottom is the map I need and a picture that I haven't looked at since before this mess started up.

I pull the map from my bag, unfolding the piece of yellowing paper and my eyes scan across the notations my father and I made in careful handwriting. Area's that are good for finding stuff in is like King County and other places truly stand out to me. But I'm still wondering what's in that little deserted cabin nestled tightly in those trees not too far from here.

"You have tha' map, Rebel?" Carl asks quietly, not disturbing Isaiah's sleep. I hold the map out to him and he smiles brightly, lifting me from the ground and spins me in circles. "You, my sweet lil' Rebel, are a life-saver."

I snicker, hugging him gently. "I know I am, Carl. Where would ya' be without me now?"

Carl shrugs. "Killin' poor lil' defenseless forest animals and I guess bein' a teenager with mood-swings. I'm grateful that I found you out there, Rebel; you've…given me a new outlook on this life. I've a new reason ta' live every day…"

"Nice ta' know I stop you from tryin' to go homicidal," I tease, Carl's arms winding around me tightly. I can hear his beating heart through his shirt, the rapid beating comforting me. "I don't know where I'd be, either. Ya' saved me an' Isaiah."

Carl kisses my forehead, a small smile on his face. "I'll always be here for ya', Rebel." An awkward silence fills the air and Carl and I look at one another, our eyes flicker towards Daryl Dixon who is giving us a dirty look.

"You two better be breakin' it up in there! Carl, get yer' hand off of tha' girl," Daryl says, his tone almost fatherly like. He walks off, mumbling silently and Carl and I peek our heads from behind the concrete walls.

Carl wraps his arms around me again, his eyebrows cocked with confusion. "Since when did Daryl become Daddy Dixon?"

I shake my head. "I don't know… Jus' ignore it an' he might stop. C'mon, we gotta and get ready for the food run tomorrow." Carl lifts me off of my feet, his laugh bouncing off of the walls of the near empty prison since everybody else is outside doing their chores, sliding down the railing of the stairs from the third level of the prison.

…

Carl pushes his sheriff hat onto my head gently, trying to keep me still as I fight his antics. "Carl, I'm fine! You're treating me like a walkin' hazard site! I don't need a hat, 'kay?" I take the hat from my head, trying to give it back to Carl.

Everybody else is gearing up for the run, loading their vehicles up. Carl took the horse since we're not traveling as far as the others, but Glenn put a little trailer like thing on the back of the horse for carrying a bigger load inside we find a big gang of stuff.

"Hershel said he doesn't want you getting' anymore sunburn! Yer' tan enough as it is, Rebel!" Carl puts the hat on my head again, his expression stern as he puts it onto my head again. "Hey, ya' look good with it on through."

I roll my eyes, lifting myself onto the horse, Carl following. "Quit tryin' ta' butter me up, boy. This trip may take a while and you possibly may be dead at the end of it." I grab the reins of the horse, Carl snickering wildly from behind me. I nudge him, letting him know to shut up, going to the line-up of vehicles setting out. Glenn walks up to us, the Asian man looking at us with unsure eyes.

"Are you two sure about going out there?" Glenn asks. "I mean we could send somebody else going towards the west end."

"We'll be fine, Glenn," Carl chastens, giving the man a dirty look. "We'll have three or four men fairly close to us an' Rebel knows this area like the palm of her hand."

Glenn nods and then runs back to his vehicle, jumping into the back of the trunk quickly. An older man opens the gate, Walkers stumbling towards it and everybody takes off. I feel the horse take off wildly, running directly out of the gate, Carl's hands clutching my shoulders to keep from falling onto the ground where he'll face his untimely demise with the Walkers. A rush of adrenaline runs through my system as I yank the horse's reins, speeding by the monsters that took everything from me. Their arms reach out, trying to grab at everything that goes by them, but they fail miserably to grab at any of it and the sound of the gate closing lets us know we're really out here on our own.

"Lead the way, Rebel," Carl says, leaning against me and I roll my eyes. I direct the horse towards the left, looking back towards the Walkers that are running after the vehicles instead of Carl and I. The horse slows as I lead it into the forest, ready to find the cabin somewhere in the woods. I pull the copy of my map out, making sure I'm on the correct route as Carl and I hold onto the horse lugging us and the small wooden trailer.

"Since we're gonna be out here for a while, I'd like to get to know you better," Carl says, winding his arms around me like a little kid would.

I roll my eyes. "A game of twenty questions…yay."

Carl shakes his head, flicking my shoulder. "I just' want ta' know more about ya' since ya' are my potential girlfriend."

I blush looking back at him and I sigh, smiling at him. "What do ya' want ta' know, Carl? Keep the questions reasonable, doll face." I use a free hand to ruffle his brown hair and then I adjust his that's on my head, blocking the sweltering Georgia sun from my eyes.

"Well I want ta' know how old ya' are," Carl says. "Estimate for me."

I chuckle lightly, leaning against his body. "I guess I'm thirteen? My birthday's in November." Carl nods and rests his hands over my stomach, holding onto me as I steer the horse the direction I want it to. "What 'bout you, Grimes?"

"I think I just turned fourteen," Carl replies. "My birthday's in June."

"Oh, so you're an older man," I tease, the both of us holding in laughter that way we don't attract more Walkers than needed. One or two stumbles around, but they're far away enough so they can't see us. I wonder what could run through their minds if they had a whole one… I can't imagine what it'd be like to wonder around aimlessly for years until you decomposed, feeding on anything that has flesh and blood on it. I shudder, Carl holding me more securely.

"Ha ha, very funny, Rebel," Carl says, looking down at me. "Where were you born at?"

"In a military base overseas in Italy," I reply, Carl's eyes shooting up in wonder. "We moved to the states when I was six. What about you?"

"I was born in King County, so I've been stuck in Georgia all of my life. Life down here was somewhat interestin' until tha' world went ta' crap." I nod in agreement and silence falls between us. Carl's voice pipes up once again, breaking the serenity of the forest and he looks down at me, his face a mask of wonder. "Rebel?"

"Yeah?"

"The first day you were at tha' prison, I heard ya' talkin' ta' Hershel," Carl replies. "I remember he asked for yer' name…yer' real name. What is your real name, Rebel?"

I take in a deep breath, sighing as I look up at him. It's been months since I've been called my real name and I think I've forgotten it. Closing my eyes, I run through the alphabet until the first letter sounds familiar to me. _ADC…GHI… I; _that's the first letter in my name; my name is Isabella.

"My name is Isabella Faith Evans," I answer, a smile coming across Carl's face and he gives a muffled chuckle as he buries his face into my hair. "What? Why are ya' laughin' at me?"

"You just ain't that girly sounding, Rebel; yer' tough an' well, not soft." Carl smoothes the hair from my face, a smile on his face. "My Isabella…." He lets the name roll over his tongue like he was savoring it. "What meaning does the name have behind it since yer' a Christian an' all…like Isaiah's name."

"Well, smarty-pants, my name means 'God is a vow,'" I reply, nudging him gently. "Tell me yer' real name since you are on the topic. My little red necked Carl Grimes…"

"Carl Lester Grimes," he says, shuddering a little bit at the mention of his name. I smirk, letting him know I thought his middle name's funny and he nods in respect. "I can take that…Isabella." I dig my elbow into his ribs, the boy giving a quiet groan of discomfort as we ride towards our destination. I smile up at him and I look towards the familiar bunch of trees that are tightly surrounding the small two story cabin. I stop the horse, allowing Carl to help me to the ground and then he follows. We both grab our guns, cocking them and put the silencers on to make sure we don't attract Walkers.

"You ready, Rebel?" Carl asks, standing next to me after he ties the horse up. I nod, the both of us quietly moving through the trees. The moment we both bust through two Walkers…two corpses of children…start moving towards us. I level my gun towards the little girl's head and I watch as she falls to the ground, finally dead and at rest like she's supposed to be, the boy following in suit along with his sister. Carl and I run up towards them, looking at the guns they were carrying.

Carl smiles brightly. "These are _military _grade guns, Rebel!" he exclaims quietly, the both of us taking the guns from them and then we look at them. They're both fully loaded and I don't think that these little guys even had the chance to fire at whatever killed them. Carl and I scout the house's perimeter, knowing that with two children came a mother and a father…maybe even some more siblings. Carl and I stop at the front door, having not seen any more Walkers and then we look towards the door. Just like I remember, the thing is pad locked and it is chained together so many times I can't count the interlocking chains that have rusted over.

"Wow, the family didn't want anybody to ever get in here…even in their death," Carl whispers.

"Yep… That's something like Daddy said when we came here the first time. Then he called 'em freaks because of how many chains are on tha' front door." We study the place in silence, letting our guards fall for a moment. Cold hands grip my shoulder, the loud groaning sound of Walker having found its next meal filling the air. I squeal, Carl's body jumping and I struggle to pull away, the monster losing its balance and Carl levels his gun at the Walker's head, killing it. My breathing fades, my skin running deathly pale and Carl takes me into his arms.

"Are you okay?" Carl asks, looking down at me.

I nod, regaining composure and I look towards the beast that tried to make me its dinner. The thing was probably just a teenager…a boy with hopes of having a future. "I'm 'kay, Carl. No worries." Carl places his hands on my shoulder and then gently pulls the top of my shirt from my shoulder to look at the skin to make sure it was pierced, in which it isn't. I shiver and Carl wraps his arm around my waist.

"You're okay, Rebel."

"I know I am… C'mon, let's break into this place before anymore unwanted visitors come," I say, looking for something to break the chains on the door. Carl holds up a pair of pliers and then we smile at one another wildly. "And I thought you were absolutely crazy…" I kiss his cheek, watching him blush and I take the pair of pliers from him, working at the door. Carl keeps watching, looking between me and the trees constantly. He paces, kicking up leaves silently and then sits on an overturned bucket.

"You got tha 'door yet?" Carl asks, complaining like a little kid on a car ride

I give him a dirty look. "These chains are thick, Carl! Give me a few minutes so I can get everything off of tha' lock! Ain't my fault that these people went the extra ape-shit mile!" We both grin and then I return to pulling at the chains, Carl still on guard duty. Thirty minutes pass and I finally pull the last chain apart, Carl's eyes flickering towards me and we give quiet words of accomplishment to one another before we open the door, guns pointed towards whatever Walker that could be inside. Our eyes flicker around and I smile at the sight of mounds of canned foods stacked on a table in the corner, Carl's face clearly joyful, too.

"You scout the downstairs and I'll check the upstairs?" Carl asks and I nod, squeezing his hand.

"Be careful, okay?"

"Always," he whispers, hugging my body close to his and he scampers upstairs, leaving me downstairs and I walk around silently, peeking into doorways.

I scatter over towards the table, filling a duffel bag up with the canned goods and then move into the kitchen. The place is trashed, but I find bottles of water here and there and I even take some cups and bowls, and then pots and pans for Glenn and the ladies to cook with.

"Rebel!" Carl screams.

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**Anna The Viking: Thanks for the review! You've always made writing easier for me when you review! Hope you liked this chapter!**

**YunaCastia: Well I'm honored that you love this story so much and that it is your favorite. You're really the first of any of my reviews from other stories to say this so far besides other who have given their remarks for this one. I read that "The Psychopath Test" story and I found it interesting; too bad the author hasn't updated in almost two months. Trust me; I won't stop updating like that person did on the story!**

**livelovemusic96: You always make me smile with your reviews! I had some emotional issues writing the last chapter, too…crying was one of them. Can't wait until your next review!**


	6. It's Almost Heaven

**I know a few of you aren't particularly happy with the cliffhanger I left everybody on, but that adds onto the suspense of the story, right? Thanks to my many wonderful reviews for the last chapter's suggestions and the praise I received for it! Hope you guys enjoy!**

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Images of a Walker flash through my mind, Carl's body being tackled to the floor among the many disturbing images filling my head. My blood runs cold as everything I carry falls to the floor with a loud thump, my body running on instinct, leaving me without a choice in the matter as I scatter upstairs, Carl's scream having me panicked. I wasn't losing him. I wasn't losing the boy I loved. Cocking my gun, I listen for the sound of Carl's gun or the hisses of Walkers. I don't hear neither of the two noises…so what does that mean? Wouldn't Carl be screeching or something if he got bit, right? I peer into the first room on my left, no Walkers or an injured Carl Grimes anywhere. Backing out, I feel hands grasp my shoulders and I jump, my elbow meeting something's chest and I hear a thump. Almost ready to shoot, I peer down towards whoever or whatever grabbed for me and I see Carl laying on the floor, his crystal blue eyes staring up at me in horror.

"Rebel, are ya' okay?" he asks, the breath knocked out of him. "Are ya' okay? Isabella?"

My name brings me back to reality and I stare down at Carl's body on the floor. He looks spooked by my antics, but I can't care less. He wasn't attacked and there are no Walkers in here. Carl's as safe as he can be. I can feel the blood boil beneath my skin and I lower my gun, angry with him and Carl pushes himself up, rubbing his head where he hit the floor.

My face twists into a mask of anger, my words coming out quietly but harshly. "You scared tha' hell outta me, Carl! Why'd ya' have ta' scream like that, dumbass?" I want to hit him so bad right now…maybe just knock a little sense into him. Right now no love I have for him could stop me from literally beating him to a pulp for doing that.

"Cool down, 'kay? I didn't mean ta' do that," Carl says, his voice equally quiet but not menacing. He walks over to me, wrapping me up in his arms. His hands run up and down the length of my back, attempting to sooth me from whatever miniature panic attack I'm having. "Rebel, yer' okay…shh…"

I pull back from his embrace, eyeing him. "If ya' ever do that ta' me 'gain, yer' ass is grass! Ya' hear, Carl? Love won't save ya' then." I sock him in the back of his head, the thirteen year-old giving me an apologetic smile. Carl kisses my forehead gently, intertwining our hands. "And don't you ever call me Isabella…that ain't my name anymore. That girl died a long time ago."

"Trust me, Rebel, I won't… For a lil' girl, you pack a punch," he says, teasing me. "I think you broke a rib." I smile at him and I fling my arms around him, burying my face into the crook of his neck. "Sorry, Rebel." Carl lets go of me and then holds my hand tightly in his. "But this is what I was hollerin' 'bout! C'mon, you've gotta see!"

I cock my eyebrows at him as he pulls me towards a room, my eyes flickering around wildly. In this room are mounds and mounds of supplies- canned foods, medical supplies, all kinds of clothing for babies and adults, baby formula...just so much stuff I can't even put my finger on it.

"Wow, these people were smart little bastards…stocking up like this," I say, my voice starting to become shaky, tears stinging at my eyes. This is the first time and probably the last time I'll ever be happy to cry. Carl comes up behind me, a smile on his face and he looks around. "Is this Heaven or what? I haven't seen this much since tha' outbreak started!"

Carl snickers, running over towards the mountain of supplies like a little kid getting a toy. "I guess those T.V shows 'bout tha' apocalypse was true... At first my dad said that it was nothin' but lies. He told my mother an' me that it was fake… 'Course I was twelve and I was 'bout as gullible as hell."

I laugh, gathering bags to load everything up with. "My Daddy blocked tha' channels it was on…said that the people who even invented those T.V shows were dumber than sacks of hammers. I bet ya' any amount of money that the people who made tha' television shows are somewhere in an underground bunker laughing and sippin' iced tea."

Carl chuckles. "I'll bet ya' that they're rolling in their graves and laughin' at us for a kiss." He winks at me playfully and I blush furiously, looking from his direction and towards the mountain of supplies to stuff them into a duffel bag.

"Smartass," I snap.

He rolls his eyes, piling up packages of water and then sorts through packages of plants that can be grown at the prison. Silence falls between us as we continue to work, the only sounds being our breathing and our footsteps. Carl sits against the wall, sorting through the numerous packets of seeds and then cans of food, leaving me on the opposite side of the room to sort through medical supplies and clothing. My eyes flicker towards the window, the sun high in the sky; I'd say we've been out here around three hours because we left at nine or later and the sun is reaching its highest point in the sky. We have all day to finish up with things here and almost everything is at our disposal.

"C'mon, let's get everything loaded…" Carl's voice is cut off by loud footsteps, an eerie silence filling the air as the footsteps come closer and closer. He stands up, holding out his hand and then points towards a closet fairly close to us. I jump up, taking his hand gratefully as he pulls me towards the closet and we find ourselves limited on space in here.

I grab the lighter stuffed into my pocket, making it flicker on and the small flame barely illuminates in the darkness. Carl's hand clutches mine and we both peek out the door. A man dressed in black walks around the room, clutching a rifle and I feel Carl's free hand come over my mouth to keep me from screaming. I allow the flame to die out and Carl gently pulls me inside of the closet; his hand remains over my mouth as if he knows I'll scream or give some kind of battle cry before I jumped onto the shady figure's back to deliver a death blow to his head. We look out again, watching intently as the man walks around, looking at the supplies we've gathered up.

I seize Carl by his shoulders, pulling him down to me and I put my lips next to his ear, whispering so quietly only the two of us can hear. _"What do we do? He doesn't look like tha' friendly type, Carl." _We glare daggers at one another before Carl puts his lips next to my ear, whispering quietly.

"_We wait until he's off guard an' tackle his little tan ass to tha' floor, that's what we're gonna do!" _Carl looks out towards the man again and then brings his head inside.

"_Are you wanting ta' die? Goin' out there is a suicide mission, Carl!" _

"_I ain't sitting here ta' wait ta' get killed! I'm goin' down fightin', lady!"_

I cock my eyebrows at him, not exactly liking the idea of being called "lady" by the smartass. Carl's hand still clutches mine, his other holding his gun tightly. In the dim light I can see a reassuring smile plastered across his face, his expression gentle and then I feel his lips on my cheek. _"Ready?" _Carl asks, his voice not coming above a whisper.

Nodding, I allow my fingers to intertwine with Carl's and then he opens the door, making sure it doesn't squeak and then we tread quietly across the floorboards of the house, ready to spring on the predator in the room with us. A rush of adrenaline courses through my system and I feel Carl's hand slip from mine as we both jump onto the man standing in the room, his shriek filling the air.

"What tha' hell's goin' on?!" the man shrieks, his limbs flailing.

A hand connects with my face, sending my body literally skidding across the floor. The air leaves my lungs, any kind of new air refusing to cling to my throat as I curl into a little ball on the floor. Blood dribbles down my nose, pooling onto the floor quickly and I struggle to push myself up, looking over towards Carl. The struggle has stopped; both Carl and the figure exchanging apologies quickly and I see Daryl's blue eyes illuminating in the sunlight. I blink, rubbing my eyes as I stare at him. What the hell? You'd never find Daryl Dixon wearing pitch black clothing and he would dare go without his crossbow into any territory.

Carl scampers over to me, lifting me off of the floor. He cups my face in his right hand, inspecting my nose and he quickly pulls a rag out of his pocket, holding it under my nose to staunch the bleeding. Daryl Dixon grumbles, the man standing up and then stalks over to Carl and me.

He slaps Carl upside of the head and he gives me a stern look. "Have you two lost yer' God ever lovin' minds? You don't sneak up on anybody! I could have killed both of ya'!" Daryl looks down at me, moving the cloth Carl gave me and shakes his head. "God, I might've broken yer' nose…"

Carl's face runs bright red. "So yer' tellin' me this is our fault when ya' was tha' stupid-ass that came in here without callin' for us? Ya' know better than I do that this was tha' spot Rebel and I were goin' to!" He looks like he's ready to pounce on Daryl again and finish the job he stared the moment we jumped on him.

"I'll take some of tha' blame," Daryl sighs. He looks out of the window and his body shivers. "'Kay, I say we've got 'bout forty-five minutes 'fore any unwanted visitors show up. Be grabbin' stuff, 'kay?" Daryl grabs a duffel bag, loading everything inside before scampering off downstairs.

I look over towards Carl and he smiles lightly. "C'mon, ya' heard yer' daddy. Start loading stuff onto the trailer." I glare at him before using my free hand to gather stuff up, dumping it into the mostly full bag of medical and baby supplies as Carl starts grabbing the duffel bag full of vegetable seeds and the packages of water. My eyes flicker towards the closet and I can see a red carton peeking out of the door. I look towards the door, making sure Carl and Daryl are nowhere to be found and I scamper towards the door, using my free hand to open it. Inside of the closet that Carl and I hid in is a jug of gasoline…no, jugs of gasoline and five generators. A smile works its way onto my lips and I hear Carl trudge back inside of the room.

"Carl, get yer' little white butt over here!" I squeak. I don't think I've ever been this excited in my life besides the first boyfriend I've ever had or the time my parents bought me an iPod. "C'mon, ya' gotta see this!"

Carl walks over, placing his hand on my back. "Rebel, what are ya' doin'?" His voice fades and his irritated expression turns into a look of excitement. Both of stare at the generators, images of the prison being restored with power most likely being the same image we share. Just to think I was the idiot who brought a lighter in there with those cartons full of gas.

"Are ya' thinkin' what I'm thinkin?" I ask, looking up at him and he chuckles. "Grab a generator an' I'll clear out tha' gas; Daryl can finish up with the rest of tha' supplies!" We're both giggling like little kids, gathering the supplies and then rush outside to put the rest of the stuff onto the trailer. Carl stops me before I can go back inside, smiling down at me.

"What would I do without ya', Rebel?"

I shrug, wrapping my arms around him. "Let's not even think 'bout that, Carl. C'mon, I don't think that Daryl's gonna appreciate us makin' googly eyes at one another if there are Walkers comin'." Carl chuckles, nudging me playfully and then looks at my nose.

"Sorry that I made ya' attack yer' Daddy Dixon," he says, gently wiping away blood.

"Boy, jus' go an' get another generator," I quip, pushing him inside. "If ya' be good I jus' might let ya' get back to tha' prison half alive." I wink at him before he rolls his eyes, stumbling back upstairs to gather the other generators.

…

Carl and I sit on the stairwell, our legs dangling over the third level of steps. We both look up towards the ceiling for any signs of electricity from the generators. This is like the Fourth of July to the entire prison because people are staring up at the ceiling, waiting for the light display we haven't seen in nearly two years. The looks on those peoples' faces were priceless when he came in with those supplies and the generators; the children and the adults were absolutely flabbergasted when Carl and I came riding in with Daryl in the back of our trailer with those supplies. All of us knew that we'd be sustained off of this stuff for quite a while before we'd have to start spreading out across the state of Georgia to find the stuff. There are boxes of food that doesn't expire until 2014, baby formula that will last even longer than that, and just all kinds of goodies that there is more than enough for everybody here at the prison. Carl told me that his father is proud of me…even though he is locked up in the cell block with a few more of our violent cell neighbors. Right now I honestly wish that Rick is stable enough to see what the guys in the basement are working on right now to get the generators started up.

"Electricity…running water…we might be able ta' return to a sense of normalcy if they get this place lit up," Carl comments, intertwining his fingers with mine as we sit, our voices joining the mesh of excitement that is filtering throughout the prison. He's smiling like an idiot as he stares up towards the lights, wrapping his arms around me tightly, kissing my forehead gently.

I shake my head, leaning against him. "We'll have 'bout six months of normalcy, Carl. Then we'll have ta' find other means of fuel." We chuckle wildly, our limbs tangles around each other as we stare up towards the ceiling. Small surges of electricity run through the lights above us, causing flashes of light. Everybody's getting excited around us, causing some kind of big commotion and I see Carl's smile in the dim light provided by the light outside.

This time the lights flicker on full force, the entire prison cheering at the sound of the buzzing generators. Carl lifts me up, spinning me in circles and I let out a booming laugh. He plants a kiss to my cheek, letting out a cheer as he slides down the rails of the stairs, holding me tightly to his body. Daryl's the first at the bottom of the stairs, picking me up like a small child and I throw my arms around him. The happy-go-lucky man runs laps with me around the prison, jumping chairs and tables as he dances around like an idiot.

"We've got power!" Daryl says in a sing-song voice, dancing around wildly. I laugh, holding onto him. He slings me onto his back, standing next to Glenn and Carl who have joined sides. "And it's all because of Rebel and her boyfriend." I nudge him, still smiling wildly as I hang onto him like a koala. Carl helps me down from Daryl's back, clutching me to him gently.

"C'mon, let's get out of here," Carl says, holding out his hand.

I smile gently, allowing our fingers to intertwine gently. He leads me towards the prison yard, shutting the door behind him. Carl leads me towards the steps, helping me sit down and he throws his arm around my shoulders carefully. I hug him tightly, burying my head into the crook of his neck and I smile lightly, feeling him stroke my back. "You're a miracle, Rebel."

"Me, a miracle? I think you're looking for somebody else ta' brag on, Grimes," I say, confused at his words. Carl tilts my head up to look at him, a small smirk on his face as he runs his fingers through my hair.

"Yer' my miracle…a blessing in disguise." Carl snickers, leaning his forehead against mine. "That's what Hershel said ya' were when ya' first came. You were small, sad…but you were strong. A survivor, Rebel. I guess everybody else saw through those clouded blue eyes of yours the first day you come."

I smile at him. "What took you so long to see that I was a trained assassin, Carl?" He rolls his eyes at my teasing, clutching my small hand in his.

"I didn't want ta' lose anybody else, ya' know? I really thought you were a beautiful lil' creature when you came to the prison… I was just afraid to love you. I love you, Rebel. Isabella Evans… Whoever the hell you are, I love you…" Carl leans in, coming close to me and an awkward moment of tension fills the air. I smile lightly, feeling Carl up my face in his hands and he captures my lips with his. I wind my arms around his neck, bringing him closer to me.

I pull back for a breath of air, placing my head against his and Carl smiles at me wildly. "I love you, too…" I wrap my arms around him, feeling tears streak down my face as I lean against his body. Carl kisses the top of my head, stroking my blonde hair gently.

"I love you, Rebel," Carl says quietly.

My throat swells up, tears spilling over my eyes quickly as I hide my face in his chest. "I love you, too." Carl winces at the sound of my voice cracking, hugging me gently as we stare up towards to night sky complete with stars and a crescent moon. My eyes flicker over my shoulder where Daryl and Carol stand, holding Isaiah and Judith and I shake my head at them, blushing. Carl looks over his shoulder, too, his eyes wide at the sight of the two…Daryl especially.

"I wish I had a camera!" Carol squeaks, bouncing Judith in her arms.

Daryl chuckles wildly, looking down at Isaiah who is giggling and going on, his big blue eyes focused on me. "See that boy, Isaiah? That's yer' future step-daddy…brother-in-law...hell, I don't know." I roll my eyes; Carl's face bright red with embarrassment.

Carl presses a kiss against my lips again, Daryl's voice coming out a growl and I chuckle. Carl and I stand up, hand in hand as we start back towards the prison. I feel Daryl nudge Carl, the younger boy shooting him a look of warning. Carl throws his arm around my shoulders, pressing a kiss to my cheek before he leads me upstairs.

"I love you," he whispers again, kissing my forehead.

I smile at him, kissing him on the lips before letting him go and before Daryl could come up here to chase him off. "Goodnight Grimes." The fourteen year literally dances off down to his cell block, a smile on his face, leaving me cracking up wildly and I drop onto my bed, bringing my cover around me. I still feel the warmth of his lips on mine, my body still tingling wildly. Sleep starts to drag me in, the feeling of Carl's lips on mine lulling me off into sleep like the little teenager I truly am.


End file.
